A sister? She didn’t think so. Friends may own a home together, but they rarely shared a bank account.
Boggs sat back in her chair. Bank account and house. Closed account about the same time she moved into the townhouse.
Coincidence? Membership card to Gertrude’s Garage. Sketchy about past relationships. Winked at her several times. Flirting, at least she thought she was flirting. Boyfriend? What about Jake Hamilton? Was that a double date last week? Since Boggs had also seen Jake with Toni at the bar, her theory had a small hole. On a whim, and despite the hour, she called up a friend of hers.
“Dan? This is Boggs. How are you doing?”
“Boggs! How the hell have you been? We were just talking about you. Jim thinks he’s found the absolute purr-fect girl for you.
We’re planning our annual pre-Christmas soiree. Should I pencil you in? December twentieth?”
Dan and Jim had been friends of hers for many years. They were known for their lavish parties and genuine good hearts. They also seemed to know all the dirt in town.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Dan, but I’m working on a date of my own. Listen, I was wondering if you knew a guy named Jake Hamilton. Architect?”
Dan sighed. “Well, honey, if you’re thinking of jumping the fence for that gorgeous hunk of man, you’re out of luck. Not only is he as queer as me, he’s taken.”
Boggs grinned. “What about Bob Clayton?”
“Available,” Dan quipped. “Really sweet guy. What’s up, 90
Boggs? Is this for work? Don’t tell me you’re on a witch hunt or something.”
“Oh, absolutely not,” she said. “It’s just that there’s this woman who . . . well, I’m now sure she’s gay. She hangs out with Jake. I was just trying to eliminate the possibility that they were an item. Her name is Toni Barston.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell, but I don’t keep up on you girls. But, ooh, tell me all about her.”
Boggs filled in Dan on what she knew and felt about Toni. After she finished, Dan whistled.
“Oh, girl. You’ve got it bad! I hope things turn out great at that party tomorrow. Maybe you two could drop over for Sunday brunch soon. We’d love to meet her.”
Boggs thanked him and promised she would be at the annual party. After she hung up the phone, she threw her fist into the air in a victory salute. Tomorrow was going to be a great day.
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CHAPTER 10
The man was walking. Not too fast, not too slow. He blended in perfectly. He knew exactly where he was going. There was no arguing in his head now. It was a singular voice, full of praise and encouragement. He was no longer tired. In fact, he had difficulty keeping himself composed. Part of him wanted to run to the house. He was almost there. He suppressed a giggle.
Tonight was a special night. He was going to preview one house before arriving at his destination. He had never done that before.
But tonight was different. The voice said this was his reward. Both houses were within his “perimeter.” He would go to the first . . .
just for a quick look. The thought of previewing it made his hands tingle. As the house came into view, he had to remind himself to walk normally. His breathing quickened. He scanned the area. He was an expert now. He was able to spot any discrepancies. He knew exactly how everything should be, even down to the shadows.
Perfect.
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No one saw him. Good, his timing was impeccable. He knew just which window was his. With little effort, he hopped the chain-link fence and slipped to the side of the house. He knew there was no dog. He knew she would be sitting in that big chair in the family room, reading a book. He knew everything. His hands were tingling and he was salivating. He inhaled slowly and deeply. Every sense in his body was heightened. He positioned himself at the window between the small shrubs. There she was. Just as he knew she would be. He smiled and licked his lips. She was next. He was in control and she would be the next. One day people would realize how he had rid the world of filth. He would be recognized as a hero and they would be in awe of his brilliance.
He stared at the woman. She was oblivious to him and the truth. But soon she would know. Just like the others, she would learn the truth. He licked his lips again. It was time to go. The preview was over. It was time for the feature presentation. He smiled.
He liked the sound of that.
He walked back the way he came. Just as he began to hop the fence, a car full of teenaged girls turned down the street. For a split second he was illuminated by the headlights. The car had caught him completely off guard and his pant leg snagged the fence. He dropped to the ground and turned his face away. As the car drove by, he heard the girls laughing at him.
A moment later he was walking down the sidewalk. His leg was throbbing and he could feel blood trickling down his calf and into his sock. He kept walking. He couldn’t draw any attention to himself by stopping to examine his leg. The voice in his head was screaming, “You idiot! Can’t you do anything right? If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, concentrate. You’ll never be as good as the others.” To the screaming he added his own con-demnations. He had lost control. He had lost focus. It would never happen again. He concentrated on his walking. Concentrated on his breathing. Within minutes he was back in control. His inner 93
vision came back into focus. He was in control again. He smiled.
He turned the corner and saw the house. It was perfect. The second floor was dark. There were only a few lights burning on the main floor. The front porch was dark. He couldn’t help but smile.
He had been at this house the night before. He had removed the light bulb and carefully wedged a piece of plastic into the base of the socket. Even if someone had noticed the light was out and put in a new bulb, it wouldn’t work. He was brilliant. He had thought of everything. He scanned the area. There was no one in sight. He slipped around to the side of the house. He looked in the window.
He could see there was a light on in the study. He knew she’d be there. He felt his hands begin to tingle again. He felt the saliva on the corner of his mouth. He felt alive. The feature presentation was about to begin. He walked to the front porch and rang the bell.
Anne Mulhoney sat in her favorite chair reading an Agatha Christie novel. She’d read it many years before, but she adored her style. The stories were never gruesome and red herrings abounded. At the end of the chapter she looked up from the worn pages and smiled. It was strange being in the house alone. With both kids grown and on their own, she and Bill had slowly transi-tioned to an “empty nest.” At first, the situation had felt awkward, but in time they grew closer than they had in years. They spent many a weekend remodeling and redecorating to fit their new lifestyles. Sarah’s room had become her treasured study and Jack’s room was now the “gym.” She and Bill spent time there almost every morning. Both of them were active weightlifters and Anne especially took pride in her progress. They were now experiencing a whole new wonderful life together.
Anne closed her book and sighed. Oh, how she wished Bill was home tonight, but he had flown out on Wednesday to a dental conference in San Diego and wouldn’t be home until the next morning. They had planned on going together and extending their 94
stay over the weekend. She looked at the brochures still lying on the coffee table and remembered the fun she and Bill had had planning their getaway. She shook her head. If all this mess surrounding Dexter Crown hadn’t happened, she’d be on the beach with Bill this weekend.
She took a few minutes to feel sorry for herself, then started to plan. Instead of moping around, she would prepare a welcome-home greeting. Bill would love this, she thought. She went to the kitchen to check for supplies and to plan a menu. She decided on Bill’s favorites: steak, salad, baked potatoes and a nice red wine.
The atmosphere was the important thing—music, candles and a small fire burning. Nothing extravagant, nothing overwhelming.
She knew he’d be tired when he arr
ived home tomorrow. She just wanted to wrap him in love. She was sitting on a stool at the kitchen island feeling both excited and content. The sound of the doorbell made her jump.
Betty Clark plopped down in her favorite chair in the study. She had just gotten home from a 12-hour shift at the hospital. It had been an unusually hectic Friday in the E.R. This was the first chance she had to sit down and relax. She kicked off her shoes, wiggled her toes and sighed. She opened her can of Diet 7-Up and took a long drink. She instinctively picked up her novel that was lying on the table, but after a couple of pages, she put the book back down.
Betty was used to working long hours and coming home to an empty house, but tonight seemed different. She’d had an uneasy feeling all day, one she just couldn’t shake. If Sam were home, he would be her sounding board. She leaned back in her chair and took several deep breaths in an attempt to clear her head. She was probably just tired. She wished Sam were home. He had taken the afternoon off to drive up to his mother’s house. Today was her birthday. Normally Betty would have gone with him, but they were short-staffed at the hospital. Because tomorrow was their big 95
Halloween party, they agreed Sam would come home tomorrow morning in time to spend the day preparing for the night’s fun.
Betty looked at her watch. Nine in the morning was too far away.
Aside from this horrible feeling, she was missing him. After 20
years of marriage, she still rushed home to see him.
She decided to make a list of the things they needed to do tomorrow. Surely that would keep her mind occupied. She got up to get a pad of paper and pencil and checked all the doors and windows. She even put the chain on the front door. It was pretty useless, but it made her feel better. With pad in hand, Betty headed back to her recliner, stopping to grab a bag of chips. Party food, she thought. Grinning, she settled in, chips and soda nearby, and began her list. The feeling of doom had not left, but she was able to focus on the big party. When the doorbell rang twenty minutes later, a shot of pure fear engulfed her. She was momentarily para-lyzed and thought about remaining very still and quiet. A horrible scene passed before her eyes. That image, however, was overcome by a compelling urge to answer the door.
The door opened only a few inches due to the chain, but she could feel the door being pushed from the other side. She instinctively pushed back in an attempt to close the door again. The voice she heard didn’t register for a moment.
“Honey, it’s me. Are you okay?” It was Sam.
Betty fumbled with the chain, tears rolling down her cheeks.
Sam wrapped his arms around her as she collapsed into his chest.
He held her tightly.
“What’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?” His voice seemed calm. Betty regained enough composure to tell him she was okay, just scared. They went into the kitchen and sat down, holding hands across the table.
Betty spoke first, “I guess I just got spooked, honey. I’ve had this creepy feeling all day and then I came home and just couldn’t shake it.”
She was still trembling and Sam moved his chair closer to hers their hands still entwined.
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“It’s okay now,” he said. “I’m home. You’re safe.” The idea that Sam was actually home finally registered with her. “Why are you home so early? Why didn’t you call?” she asked.
“I’m so grateful, but I thought you’d be home in the morning.” He reached up and gently caressed her cheek. His eyes were damp with emotion. “I was just missing you,” he replied. “Anyway, Mom was tired and wanted to go to bed early. I just couldn’t stand the thought of us each spending the night alone. I figured I’d just jump in the car and surprise you. I’m sorry. I should have called.” Betty began telling him about her day and how this awful feeling had overwhelmed her. Sam made them some hot pizza rolls.
He listened intently to her description. After about an hour in the kitchen, she announced she was ready to “move on,” and they began talking about the party. She retrieved her list and the two of them spent the next hour making final plans. When they finally went upstairs to bed, Betty was feeling safe and secure. She hung on to Sam’s arm all the way to the bedroom. She noticed he was limping slightly.
“What happened to your leg, honey?” she asked.
Sam squeezed her arm and smiled. “Oh, I opened the car door and my leg was in the way. It’s nothing.” As she lay in bed next to the man she loved, she prayed a bit longer than usual. Tonight she was especially grateful that they were both home together. Still, part of that horrible feeling lingered.
Anne Mulhoney was disturbed by someone ringing the doorbell this late. In this day and age, no one just “came over” unan-nounced. It was simply unheard of. She got up from her stool and went to the front door. Apprehensive about answering the door at night—it was after ten—she looked through her peephole.
Although the face of the man was somewhat distorted, there was no doubt it was him. She shook her head. What the hell did he want at this hour? She opened the door.
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“Good evening, Anne. I hope I’m not disturbing you,” he said.
Anne tried not to look too perturbed. “What can I do for you, Ralph?”
“Well,” he answered quickly, “I’m not one who puts his nose in other people’s business. I always say that what other people do is between them and their maker, but some things you simply can’t ignore. Take for instance just last week. I was out in my garden, minding my own business, when that Simpson dog came over. I don’t hate dogs, mind you, but people shouldn’t let them run wild like they do. Well, I had about had my fill—that dog had dug up one too many flowers for my taste—so I grabbed him by the collar and marched right over to those Simpson people. They looked at me like I had ten heads. No respect. Those people have no respect.”
Anne stood there listening to him prattle on and on. He was the neighborhood busybody. Always complaining about something or somebody, he would talk for hours if you let him. She said, “Ralph, what brings you here tonight? Is there something wrong?” Thankfully this brought him back to his reason for coming over.
“Oh, yes. That Simpson girl. She and her friends were making all sorts of noise when they pulled in their driveway, laughing and carrying on. Naturally I went over to speak with them—”
“Ralph. What does that have to do with me?”
“Oh, yes. The girls told me they saw a man jump over your fence. They said he was coming out of your yard. I thought you should be told immediately . . . with all those crazy people and all.
You should have the police come over. I’d be happy to tell them what I know.”
Anne thanked him for the information and promised him she would look into the matter. She shut the door and locked the dead-bolt. She laughed to herself. Ralph was always trying to be involved. He had a good heart, but he drove everyone crazy. She returned to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine. She decided to read her Agatha Christie book for a while before going to bed.
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The man had prepared for tonight much in the same way as he prepared for the other nights. His hands were covered with clear latex gloves. He wore a nondescript navy jogging suit, a type that was sold at every discount store in the city. His jogging shoes were ordinary. The baseball cap atop his head was also navy and contained the logo of the NYPD. Nothing about his appearance would draw attention. It was perfect.
When the front door opened he grinned and apologized for the late-night intrusion. The woman seemed a little perplexed at the reason he gave but stepped aside to invite him into her home, just as he knew she would. Play to her expertise and she would be happy to share her wisdom. Bitch. How dare she think she knew more than he did. She should be more concerned about her family
—her husband—and stay out of the way. Tonight she would learn.
The woman closed the front door and led him to her study. His hands were tingling as his fingers closed around the cold, hard steel of his knife. It was
time. He licked his lips. With a practiced move, he reached around her with his left hand and grabbed her chin. At the same time, his right hand wielding the knife, he sliced her throat. She made only a small sound before falling to the floor.
She had sensed danger too late. In a split second everything no doubt made sense, but there was nothing she could do.
He stepped back as she fell. He started giggling and dancing around the study. Perfect. Her eyes were open just like the last one. He stepped back and quickly checked himself. Except for the one glove and knife, there seemed to be no blood on him. He was good. He left her on the floor and went to her bedroom. He opened the first drawer of the dresser. Women always kept their underclothes there. She was no exception. He chose a very pretty pair. They had to be pretty. Satisfied, he returned to the woman.
There was a slight gurgling noise, but he paid it no attention. He took the panties and stuffed them into her mouth.
He stood back and grinned. He frowned as he began to list all 99
the crimes she had committed. The list was long, but her life of crime had ended. She would be happy now because she was helping him better the world. Her death would help teach other women how to behave. When he finished his explanation to her, he reached for her lifeless hand. He shook her hand and congratulated her on her acceptance of the truth. Power and anger surged through him. He could hear the bones break. This conflict of emotions always confused him. Part of him felt that wonderful sense of accomplishment and achievement of a job well done.
There was a tremendous sense of relief . . . that he could rest for a while. Another part of him was filled with rage and hatred for this piece of filth lying on the floor. He scanned the room. Everything was perfect. He became once again filled with confidence and the rage drained from him. He walked calmly to the front door and left Judge Haley’s house without looking back.
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